Destination: Neverland
by wordsaremyescape
Summary: "It's just…On this island, I don't feel like a hero or a savior. I just feel like…what I've always been; an orphan." *Please be aware that the warning is there for a reason* {Prompt linked in profile}
1. Heroes & Thieves

**Disclaimer: I take no ownership of this, just the story itself. Everything else belongs to its respective owners.**

**A/N: So...I decided I'd take a crack at a prompt and this is kinda what happened. Please keep in mind that this is my first time writing for SQ/Once.**

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_It's just…On this island, I don't feel like a hero or a savior. I just feel like…what I've always been; an orphan._

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Whoever said that the truth had a way of setting you free obviously had no idea what they were talking about. The truth just made everything that much more real. By admitting it, letting it form in your mouth, it was just a pill that became harder and harder to swallow. Emma Swan was a lot of things but the quietest voice, the one she made the biggest effort to keep far enough in the back of her mind was almost screaming at her now. Further proof that she was anything but normal.

Anybody else would eat those stories up, believe every truth they supposedly told and carry them around like a sacred Bible. By the time she could read full sentences, she knew that it was all made up, that authors were always the best liars. It's a wonder she ever let herself "believe" at all. Something so simple, so naïve took more effort than it should have. She'd already tried that once. In fact, she made the mistake of believing every single day, until eventually she came to understand that it was nothing more than some grand fantasy. She was ten years old before she came to accept that there would be no saving her, no happy ending.

She was and would always be a lost girl. She still wasn't sure if she loved or hated her trek through Neverland. It was both a slap in the face and the most welcoming place she'd ever been. There was a time when she almost dared call it home, wherever the hell that was. Maybe here she could finally stop running. Maybe this was her forever. She certainly wasn't made to save anyone. Just another set of lies laid out to make her feel better.

Nothing could make any of this better. Her ears were hot and ringing loud enough to make the cries that spilled from her mouth vital to her survival. And yet, nothing. The knot sat comfortably in her throat unmoving. While the rest of her caught fire, her words and tears remained frozen. Wherever they were, she knew they wouldn't be coming out anytime soon. Hours flowed by so quietly she had no concept of time. All that made sense was the ice cold tile she sat on, the water above her losing the warmth she needed to make her lose her sense of self. Life could never grant her such small mercy.

No, this was what she deserved. This was her punishment. Heaven knows she had a long list of regrets that it seemed she would never really pay off. One step in the right direction, two stumbles right back to wrong. Her life had been and still was a never ending cycle. There was no pausing to take a breath, no fast forwarding to better times. She was stuck, trapped in this very moment and there was no escaping any of it.

Tears were out of the question. They were always noted as a relief to pain and suffering. No such luck would fall into her lap any time soon. Foster life had taught her that such displays were weak and petty. No family in the right mind would consider the helpless, let alone be proud of her for it. At least she'd learned that one well. Cover to cover. The chill raining down on her didn't have to remind her how numb she always seemed to feel. Numb was almost branded to her once innocent skin. So old and aged it hardly seemed to burn anymore as it once had.

Emma knew enough that she was practically gasping for breath. The tangle in her throat wasn't going anywhere. Oxygen was human necessity. Without it, she knew she was done. She was suddenly struck with the notion that somebody might just find her here, pale and still curled up into herself so tightly that her legs felt as though they weighed at least ten pounds each. It was better than considering the alternative. The horror that no one would find her at all was too much. She had to believe that at least in death she would get one thing right. Life wasn't that cruel, was it? Whatever her fate, she couldn't help but find it welcoming. At least all of this would be a thing of the past. It wasn't like she would be missed or anything. She was in her late twenties before anyone showed any concern.

Emma Swan was and would always be an orphan. There was no dancing around that one. The voices never let her forget it. Now they were practically mocking her, daring her to think anything else. She had been fed so much reassurance over the last few years. Henry, her parents, all of them in their own twisted way had given her something to believe in. _Henry_. The momentary flash across her memory brought her hands to her throat as she tried desperately to claw her way to freedom. It took her only a second to realize that she had done him the most wrong. She had become what she hated more than anything.

It seems that what they say is true. The apple really didn't fall that far from the tree. No wonder she avoided those with everything she had. A constant reminder of the only good she'd ever done for humanity, handed off like a regifted Christmas present. Selfish. No matter which way she looked at it, what she had done to him was more selfish than anything she had ever done. And here she was, reclaiming her place as a mother. She had to laugh at how childish it all was. You don't want it until you see someone else with it. Worse is realizing that the one you gave it to is making better use of it than you ever could.

Regina Mills had made better use of her forgotten treasure than Emma ever would. The worst of it was that she didn't even have the guts to try. And now that she was, it was too late. Too much had been done to make her efforts count for anything. At least she could take mixed comfort in that. Her son would still have his mother. It was better this way. He would no longer be caught in the crossfire of their battles for ownership. And suddenly, she hated her for that.

The woman had the nerve to poke at her wounds with reminders of just how much a mess she made. The woman had one thing right. Emma didn't belong anywhere, least of all here. She would have to thank Regina for it at some point. Molding and making something of her son. And she would. She really honestly would. As soon as she stopped letting the anger swim through her, whenever that would be.

Liars. They're all liars. Storytellers, philosophers (or whoever it was that came up with that thing about truth and freedom). Those are for the hopeful, the ones still willing to dream. All of Emma's dreams wasted no time in becoming nightmares, singlehandedly draining every bit of hope she might still have. Reality. The only thing anyone had ever been honest with her about. Reality hurts. Reality pulls and tears at every bit of human flesh until there's nothing there but bone. A shadow of a smile comes across her face then. Yes, bones are real. Bones are real and constant. Bones are honest.

Maybe that was the secret. Lies and fantasies wasted no time in shoving themselves down her throat. If only she knew how to swallow. No time for that. Brief glimpse at her fingers told her she was turning purple already. It lasted only seconds but a split second memory dusted bits of hope across such a hopeless situation. She could smell the pages of a book she read in the game room, crowded with far too many bodies. Pulling away for just a second, her ears caught something about a dinosaur and a myth of love (not that she had a clue what either of those were). She was done listening then. She learned that day that people on TV were just as bad as the people who wrote these stupid books. If none of it was true, why the hell did she keep reading them?

She liked pain. Emma found a twisted comfort in pain. It didn't matter so much that it stung. She'd read so many of them she'd become immune to all of it. They were just words now. Words she couldn't help but feel like somebody else was reading. None of these plots resembled her life. At one point they even stopped being parts of a life she wanted. It wasn't like she was going to see any of it happen. She was here, in a room surrounded by mere echoes of small children who were still dumb enough to believe him. They still had time. The hourglass for her had long since run out of sand.

They weren't stupid. When people set out to take in the forgotten, it's always the little ones. The ones who still haven't had time to realize where they are and why nobody comes for them. Some even still think their parents are on vacation. Emma always knew better though. Maybe they saw it in her eyes. Knowing the truth she couldn't help but think was the reason she had always been overlooked. No child should know so much. And because she did, she was never going to be as shiny as the little girls around her. Their smiles were bigger, their eyes brighter. Their hair even seemed to glow in a way that only made hers seem dull. Nobody came for her then. Why should this be any different?

But it was. It was different and the realization made her sick to her stomach once more. Her son had made her a believer. He had a way of putting her on a pedestal that finally might make her someone worthy of whatever this love stuff was. It was once such a story for her that realizing it was just pretend became a comfort. Now it had crawled its way to the forefront of her mind and took her under once more. The notion stung like hot fire against her cheeks. Emma had to wonder how she had survived any of it, any of this. How was she still breathing, still human when all she ever did was starve? She craved the one thing that life would never give her, no matter how much she begged for it. Perhaps she wasn't wrong. Her last two years really had been a figment of someone's imagination. She was never really here to begin with. Accepting at least that lessened the weight bearing down on her chest. It was barely anything but at least it was less somehow.

If this really was the making of someone else, anyone else, they could just change the story. She might finally know what she was supposed to do with this knot she couldn't figure out for the life of her how to untie. They might just give her the strength to get up off this floor and turn the water off. If this really was all just a bunch of words on paper, the razor across her wrist wouldn't feel like anything. At least then she might be able to breathe a little. Clawing had done nothing to change the situation. She had to imagine that this would make a difference, even in the smallest way.

If she needed any confirmation that she was right, the spin of the world around her was enough. The grout on the walls had merged to become one long beam of white. A sense of weightlessness finally washed over her. She wasn't cold anymore. She wasn't warm. She wasn't anything. Life had a funny way of circling back like that. Is this what it felt like? Is this what it felt like to be done with…everything? She'd thought as much when they buried Neal. Not that she had a clue what he might be feeling but at least this was a glimpse into possibility. Any minute now she would be there. Or wherever it was they went when things like this happened to people. It felt…good, almost freeing. Some old guy might not be so stupid after all.

For a brief second she wondered how she managed to turn off the water. She wasn't dry yet but at least it had stopped. There it was. Cold. Cold to the point where her teeth chattered. She had to consciously stop her mouth from moving. If she went on long enough her teeth would come out in pieces in her hands. She knew they were probably still purple. Likely blue by now. Not that she had the strength to do anything about it.

"Cold…" she barely managed. The first word to crawl out in what felt like days. "So…cold…." That small window of opportunity seemed to bring with it just about everything else. Her cheeks were flaming once more and…wet. Like she hadn't gotten enough of that already. And why the hell couldn't she put a lid on all this shaking? Whoever or whatever had taken her from in there probably thought she was having some kind of seizure. _Pull it together, Swan. You're not doing anybody any favours. You just look stupid_. As often as she lectured herself, there was no stopping it. She'd reached a point of trembling so hard she had to wonder how her skin stayed hugged to her bones. The storm across her face collected on something. Fabric. She suddenly felt sorry for the piece of cloth pressed to her face and equally as stupid for placing on it all of her burdens. They were nothing but her own to bear. And yet, as much as she knew she should, she couldn't collect enough strength to pull away. It was nice…warm. Dare she say it was the first sense of calm to wash over her? Even more terrifying was the idea that it was safe here. She had to wonder just how long it would all last

Because see, Emma came to terms years ago that good things aren't meant to last, no matter how tightly you hung onto them. And yet here she was, hanging on for dear life, making fists against this cloth anyway. It would be gone in a matter of seconds no matter what she did with it. Her son had told her time and time again that dreaming was acceptable for anyone. So here she was, dreaming, hoping anyway, because what more could she really do? She was already done. Why not indulge?

"Make…make it stop…" It wouldn't exactly make any difference but the words had come. She hoped whoever this was wouldn't ask for specifics that she couldn't give. Because what could you say when everything hurt? Fairytale or not, there were no magic wands. And even if there were, it wouldn't work on her. Saviors aren't meant to be saved. She was the one meant to make the world a better place, make a difference. Well, at least she could take some comfort in knowing she'd taken care of the "difference". No one had specified that it had to be a good one. Emma Swan knew herself to be nothing but trouble. If they were looking for positive impact, they'd have to look elsewhere. "Please just make it stop….I….I can't…I can't…." she gasped.

"Shhh…Slow down." The voice came through in barely a whisper, almost like whoever said it made sure they weren't heard. It sure wasn't meant as a comfort. Those tones never had been. Whoever this was wasn't supposed to be here. Whoever this was, was just supposed to leave her there. She had to wonder why they didn't. It wasn't like she was worth anything. This had to be about brownie points, someone's good deed for the day. _You're welcome_ she thought. What came out though was just another wave of everything. She wondered how many of those she still had in her. She hoped it wasn't many. Whatever she was doing to this person was exhausting and no doubt irritating to hear. She begged to shout at herself for being such a baby about it. She wasn't supposed to be like this, she wasn't supposed to…

"I….I can't…" The voice offered nothing in reply and this somehow became invitation to grab hold that much harder.

"You can. Pull it together, you're fine." How could she get this woman to see that nothing about this was fine? Yes, a woman. No man would be able to handle more than a minute of whatever she was currently unleashing to her savior.

"I….I'm not fine," she sputtered. "Nothing's fine….It's never been fine!" That moment of rage gave Emma enough to pull back and finally meet the stranger's gaze. All at once she wished the earth below would just swallow her whole. Regina Mills. Regina Mills had pulled her from hell. Or what she thought was hell. This was far worse. The mayor had seen her…She swallowed, hardly able to think the word. The woman who wanted nothing more than to see her obliterated had…Never a good word for Emma as long as she'd known the woman and she's suddenly supposed to thank her.

When she finally made enough sense of the situation, the sheer horror of it all takes over. "I'm….I'm sorry I…I shouldn't…" Her dash to the door is cut short as sharp nails dig into untouched skin. Emma has to bite her lip to keep from screaming and slowly pivots to meet Regina's frigged stare.

"Where do you think you're going?" The woman's tone throws every thought the blonde ever had out the window.

"Home." The grip she's kept on her arm is too solid to fight, especially given how little energy she has in her to do much of anything. The sick twisted smile that comes across her mouth reminds Emma who she's dealing with. Of all people in the world, Regina is the last person to give a damn about what happens to her.

"Not your best shot at comedy but I've heard worse."

"Let go, Regina," she mutters through gritted teeth.

"So you can finish whatever it was you were doing in there? Haven't you learned anything, Miss Swan? I don't do nice."

"Let me go!" She's not dumb enough to say that the grip hurts. That'll just make it worse; give her more to do to her to make her life more hell than it already is. Her sharp expression, married to ice cold eyes makes the blonde's stomach twist.

"After all these years of hunting you down, I finally have you right where I've always wanted you. And I'm supposed to give that up? What do you take me for?" Emma takes her for a lot of things. None of them remotely warm either. The one decent thing she had went up in a plume of smoke moments ago. "Not a chance."

"Congratulations," she mumbled. "I know you're all about making me pay but can I get a minute, maybe put some clothes on?" As soon as the words leave her mouth she wants to take them back. She really did make an art of digging herself deeper.

"What's there isn't enough?" Emma looked up hoping for clarification but was only made to follow Regina's pointed gaze. _It really can get worse…_

"They're not mine," she offered dumbly.

"Obviously not. You'd be stupider than I ever gave you credit for if you walk out that door. One step and I'll finish the job myself." Emma froze, the mere idea of fulfilling the woman's wish more terrifying than anything. But more than fear, it's pride that keeps her there, even though she wants nothing more than to stay as far away as humanly possible.

"As big a party you'd throw over it, I don't think so."

"I won't say it again. Sit down!" Something about the woman's tone reminds her all too well of the ones she heard as a kid. The one that makes anyone it's pointed at feel like rounded up cattle. The one that tells her that not listening might be her last mistake. Her feet shuffle forward without her consent, the shirt laid out across the bed finding a way over her head. She has to roll the sleeves to keep from staining whatever it is she's been given. Blood would just give her one more reason to make her wish she'd kept her there.

"Tha…"

"Don't." And just like that the words are gone. _Just take whatever the hell this is._ And she finds that she is. It almost doesn't matter that there's a definite motive. Regina Mills isn't going to win this one. Not today. "What the hell were you thinking?" she suddenly snapped. _I wasn't. That's kind of the point._ Instead she stays silent. "How was I supposed to explain this to Henry?"

"Don't know…"

"Of course you don't. Impulsive and brainless, just like your mother." Anyone in their right mind would jump to defending that. But two things had to happen for it to make any sense. They had to be in some sort of right mind; she certainly wasn't. And two, she had to have a mother; she didn't. "Was this all part of some master plan? Kill yourself, let me take the fall? That's all I've ever done for you. A decade of cleaning up all your messes and it seems you never learn." Retaliation sits on her tongue but doesn't move. None of it moves because for once, Regina is right. It never stops, she never seems to learn.

"You're right," she whispered.

"Of course I'm right. Time to grow up and take some responsibility." The blonde just nodded. "And that starts right here, right now."

"Not that you're giving me an alternative."

"I told you. Alternatives are wasted on nice people."

"…And you don't do nice."

"You're learning….."

"You mind getting to the point? I have somewhere to be." Taking a spot beside her, Regina quietly took her wrist running her thumb along the crimson ribbon that made its way halfway up her arm.

"What was this supposed to solve?"

"Don't know…"

"Real words, Emma. You're capable of them. Use them." Emma can't help but be taken aback by how odd her name sounds as it rolls of the woman's tongue. The use of it is as rare as the leap year.

"I don't know. I…I just….I needed a minute," she said quietly.

"You got more than your minute," Regina muttered. "Did you get what you wanted?" _No. You kind of took that from me, like everything else_.

"Almost…."

"Selfish."

"I know. It's the only thing that makes sense. The voices they…They're constant. It's the only thing that….that quiets them. I…I think I finally get it…You. I spent years hating you for treating everyone like crap when the truth is that I...I wish I could. But I can't…..this…This is what works."

"I'd advise you find something else." Emma couldn't help but glare as she ripped her hand away.

"You think I don't want to? You think I enjoy this? You think that sitting on all of this….crap is a game for me?"

"I didn't say that."

"Thirty years, Regina. Thirty years of knowing that nobody gives a damn. Nobody's gonna see that you're not there. No one's going to feel anything when it finally clicks. The worst part of all of this? The worst part, is knowing that from day one that nobody wanted you in the first place! Watching every kid but you get this so-called "happy ending." Because you're not bright and shiny enough for anybody. So forgive me for sparing people the chore!"

"I would…"

"That's the biggest lie I've heard yet. You're just upset over the fact that you'll have to find a new target. Shouldn't be too hard for you. You're like a kid in a candy store with everyone in this town."

"He would…"

"Right. Heartbroken over a woman he hardly knows when we all know who did all the work. His mother's fine. A grade A bitch but she's fine. He's in good hands. I should probably thank you for that though, I guess. Henry's great, no thanks to me."

"That boy would blame me until the day he died if I let something happen to you and you know it." Right, of course there was motive. With Regina there was always something.

"All you had to do was tell him the truth. But I guess that's even harder for you than a lie. You would have had absolutely nothing to do with this. Go to bed on a clear conscience or whatever it is you sleep on."

"You're sitting on it."

"What?" The other woman just shook her head.

"You really think I want to walk around this town with you hanging over my head? That just invites guilt. I don't do guilt."

"Of course you don't…"

"If you really thought I was going to let you off easy, think again. I don't waste my time with martyrs."

"You're the one wasting your own time, Regina, which I'm sure you've spent enough of here. You can go. You get your patch." Emma doesn't take the time to clarify the confusion in her eyes and slowly rises from the bed. A growl of frustration tumbled out as the woman takes a firmer hold.

"What the hell do you want from—" It's no longer a lodge that keeps her quiet but Regina's mouth pressed to hers. It takes a minute for Emma to collect herself and absorb those last few seconds.

"Shut up," she whispered harshly. Completely at a loss, all Emma can do is nod obediently. "Sit." Again, she complies. This time, there's no fight when she grasps her wrist again, soft warm lips that were once against her own now gently gliding along the incisions that pepper her skin. If she didn't feel ugly then, she certainly felt it now. Regina was the last person who…

"What are you—? You….No," she mumbles quietly pulling away. "Please don't…I'm not…"

"Look at your hand, what do you see on it?" Again she forced to swallow hard as the silver band glimmers quietly by the light of the sun outside their window. "Cursing you wasn't getting rid of you. New memories didn't do it either. Haven't you learned by now? I don't lose. This is the last time, Swan. I'm done picking up after you. Are we clear?"

"Yeah…We're clear."

**A/N: Thoughts? Feel free to leave them.**


	2. For Good

**A/N: So I noticed I kind of left this one semi open-ended, or at least with enough room for some more explanation as to why Emma did what she did. I'm thinking it might actually be good here as is but we'll see.**

**Special thanks to my sister Buckskinangel for making sure my ramblings came out in something that might actually resemble the English language. You're welcome, Penny**

**Disclaimer: Once and its respective creations, as well as the general plot bunny for this fic are not mine.**

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_Yeah, we're clear. _Mowing over those three simple words made her regret saying them more each time she dared think them. How well could she keep to a promise that haunted her for well over fifteen years? To say she didn't want the…episodes, yes that was the best way to put it… A dry laugh echoed in her head then. There really was no "best way" to explain any of this. There was nothing enjoyable about them. They hurt like nothing else (when she let them). For years now it had stopped being about the act itself. As she grew older, the pride and shame she felt when finally thrown into her own body was almost more paralyzing than the blood that dripped into the bathroom sink. Five times. Five of them made in an attempt to find healthier habits; less damaging ventilation. If she wanted normal so badly she could go to the gym. _Did they even have those in Storybrooke? _Maybe a quiet jog up the path to clear her head. Sighing, she shook it in quick rejection. When Emma was in escape mode it was too easy to lose track of time and place. If they ever reached such an extreme again, there was no telling where she would end up.

The thought that she could and probably would wander blindly filled her with a foreign terror that bit harshly at her spine, causing her to shiver. She'd made a promise. Would she ever really figure out how to keep them? To add even more to the already jarring pressure she felt pressed against her shoulders, this had been more than just any promise. Even in blind panic she knew that. What she'd sworn to was a commitment, a reason to stay. How she'd made it this far, she would never know. Her wife wasn't exactly the kind to take her hand when she happened to get lost. She would never say out loud just how often she let herself do just that. For someone who would probably just hand her a portable GPS and send her off, how in the world was she even going to begin explaining this?

She had enough in her to explain the motive for the single situation (when her skin finally found colour again, choosing to say very little if anything when Regina's arms found a way around her moments later). There were times she asked herself if the woman did such things because they were "expected." Maybe she did, maybe she didn't. No matter what the reason, Emma was once more indebted to her for her display of selflessness. The two weren't exactly newlyweds anymore, not that it really mattered if they were. According to any of the townspeople, she and Regina sounded like an old married couple the minute one of them opened her mouth. Yes, their honeymoon phase had long since past. If ever it even existed.

When they were finally able to table resentment—the search for Henry giving that step more than a gentle shove—nothing much had changed. Yes, they were kinder to one another and managed to hide arguments much better than they used to but the shift in their bond was such a thin line to cross that it hardly felt like anything different. Dropping off their son in the early evening and staying until dark was hardly a question. With time, Emma couldn't help but find the silence haunting when finally she made it home. Until finally it became too much and she found herself using Henry as an excuse just to hear more than her own voice. The mayor wasn't exactly jumping up and down over the idea of it all but Neverland had taught them to pick their battles. Time with Henry was not one of them. There was always something more they could rip the other's hair out over.

In this very moment, there was very little stopping her from letting her own golden locks fall in groups along her fingers. She more than deserved it. She had stopped fighting. Four years of self control down the toilet. And to think she'd actually been proud of herself for surviving such a long haul. She could take the smallest comfort in telling herself that this one wasn't entirely her fault. But she had also been so close. _And then you had to fucking die_ she thought bitterly. At her fifth and final, she pretty much almost made it. And he had the nerve to go and ruin it for her. This was nothing to do with his final act, classic superhero move, really. At least Henry said so. But Emma had just about everything else to focus on. Adventures aside, the man was just as selfish as she once was.

_I went to jail for you_ she thought letting her blood simmer quietly. _I carried your son and you couldn't even… _"Look for me…" As she rattled off in argument with herself, Emma had forgotten that Regina was still there with her, inches separating them. _I won't do anything stupid, you can go do whatever it is you were doing before you thawed me out_. Instead she quietly cleared her throat, finally realizing she'd said something out loud. The look of question in the other woman's features told her as much. "Sorry I just…thinking," she mumbled.

"Rare for you," Regina smirked. "Please, don't let me stop you. Who knows when it will actually come again." Emma simply rolled her eyes. If she wasn't "impulsive", she knew she would never get anywhere. Thinking things through, picking them apart, letter by letter was dangerous. If she did it long enough, she would find herself beginning to wander and the little control she managed to gather would fall to nothing.

"I want to," she mumbled. "I want to so much. I did. Four years. That was my last stretch." Emma rolled her lip, briefly closing her eyes before letting the next few words fall out. She didn't have to ask if Regina was listening, or if any of it made sense as it flowed into the room. She decided to take the fact that she was still there as enough of an answer. "Almost made it another year. And then he…I was convinced I'd never even see him again. He's blasted onto a street in New York and it's like he never left." Looking up for only a moment, she saw a scowl painted across her wife's face. "Not necessarily those ones. Those were…whispers, not reminders. Mostly anger, betrayal. Think any negative emotion you want, I had it. And…those…dissipated and everything good trumped the wall I couldn't keep up."

"You still cared for him."

"Yeah," she admitted honestly. Regina was a master of the mask but Emma knew well enough that the flicker of jealousy (though fleeting as she scrambled to hide it) wasn't supposed to be there. She couldn't help but feel privileged when she was actually able to catch sight of those flashes. Almost as if she was keeping a secret. Most of her momentary falters were. "You don't have to worry about him," she said quietly.

"You've already taken care of that," she offered evenly. The ice in her eyes had returned.

"That's not what I said," she replied.

"You don't have to. You do a poor job of hiding it."

"What?"

"For someone who claims to have a wealth of secrets, you don't hide very well, Miss Swan." The blonde easily dismissed her. Regina could think what she wanted. She always did, no matter what the story was.

"You going to let me finish?" Emma muttered.

"You'll continue either way…." Propping herself up further, she sighed.

"No matter what he did, he's still…He's going to be….No matter…"

"Say it." Her tone was sharp but direct.

"He's still our son's father," she said. There was no use in being gentle about it. Neither of them made a point of dancing around anything. It just ended up frustrating both of them and ended in anger no matter what. Emma watched her wife's eyes narrow and her limbs go rigid. Not even the joint term was going to ease Regina and she knew as much before she even let herself say it. Though the boundaries were never set, it was an unspoken subject topic that was to be avoided.

"Nothing more than a y chromosome," she grunted. "Henry knew him no more than five minutes. Throwing it around doesn't mean a damn thing. Play the part all he wants but he's done absolutely nothing to earn it." The woman's face was hard and even though she'd somehow taken to defending him, she knew Regina was right. All the same, she couldn't help but apply it to more than absent fathers.

"Like I'm just a uterus," she concluded. She hated how much her lapses took out of her. On any given day, she would be up on her feet, her hot breath against the woman's face for starting the fire inside her. The flustered cloud blew over again as Regina met her gaze.

"You know I didn't say that," she said, voice clipped.

"You didn't have to," she said echoing Regina's earlier brush on the subject. Emma already knew where she stood when it came to responsibility, or lack thereof, which Regina had no problem pointing out repeatedly. That had so little to do with the initial conversation but Emma couldn't help but think that it mattered at least a little.

"You're dancing. It's irritating me."

"The point is," she pressed on. "I'm going to care whether I want to or not."

"You either care or you don't, Emma. There's no complicating the situation." She wouldn't say it but the either or mentality was a part of both of them and there was no shaking either of them loose.

"I care," she decided. Really the only way to explain it was honesty. Regina was going to hate it but she was past making Neal a ghost. He haunted her enough as it was.

"We've already addressed that," she muttered.

"Wouldn't you?" she asked, already sure she knew the answer but asked it anyway.

"Why should I?"

"I don't have to answer that," she sighed. Regina quietly shook her head, a light smirk on her face.

"Don't make this about Henry." Emma sat up straighter then letting herself meet Regina more evenly.

"For once, this has nothing to do with Henry! This is about me."

"It's always been about you, hasn't it? When Emma's afraid, she hides. When she can't handle life, she pretends she doesn't have to. You're far past teenage rebellion, dear." Emma had to let herself breathe before she dared open her mouth again.

"Can I finish a freaking sentence before you jump my throat?" she snapped. "Yes it's about me. I never want it to be but it is. Since day one that's all you understand, that's all you've absorbed. Some people are more than they put on the table."

"And here I was with the impression that I was speaking to Emma Swan." She had to fight the need to wash her hands over her face in frustration. She didn't have to say it. Emma knew exactly where she was going: Mary Margret, and her almost constant role as devil's advocate.

"The system shuts you down. It gets to be so routine, so detached that after a while, what you should feel…you can't. You expect the let down; you accept the fact that after a while, you can't do anything to change anybody's mind. If they do it's a damn miracle. I didn't get any miracles. I turned eighteen and never looked back. Never had any reason to. I had nowhere to go but anywhere was better than one more day of hell. I started walking and just…kept going. Never the same place twice. I….I never learned how…to stop. Life was a wild card. Finally, the freedom I never tasted. If this was the only way to get it, damn right I was going to do it." This is where normal people might start to slip a little, maybe cry for a few careful sentences. She'd gone and dumped it all in one shot. As much as her throat ached, the words kept coming. If they would make sense to her, she didn't care. She just needed them gone. "They teach you all about strangers. They tell you to look for cars. I made it by the skin of my teeth on common sense. I should have thought twice when he pulled up and asked to take me a few miles. I didn't. The miles just kept going…We stopped at motels, jumped a few convenience store clerks. We did what we could, what we had to do. In his own way…Neal was the first person to…take care of me. It wasn't legal but it was something. I'm not a whore," she whispered. "I didn't use him or manipulate him. If I did I never set out to do anything. I just wanted to get away from…everything. Neal helped me do that. I'm sure he had his own reasons but that doesn't even matter. You're right, he's not a father. Sometimes I'm not even sure he was my friend but I owe him _something_."

"You paid your debt. He let you sit in prison for him. Too much a coward to do it himself."

"Sure, I could have said no."

"But you didn't. He played you, Emma. He played you like a harp and left you with his seed like it was the least you could do for his 'rescuing you'."

"I made my choices, Regina. There are loans hanging over my head and they're going to be there. No matter what day it is, how long it's been they're going to be there. Human contact," she said simply. "That's it. Neal fed that for me when nobody else could. And I…I love him for it." The disgust on her face was clear as the almost forbidden word fell out. "I appreciate someone willing to make me human. He was my first…anything. The whole thing was backwards as hell but that's the best I was going to get until or if something better…And better happened. I didn't know how…I still don't. I had to, Regina. See it however you want but I had to. Anything was better than going backwards. I had no idea whose doorstep it was that night. All that mattered to me was that my son would have a home. It didn't even have to be perfect. I made my sacrifice. I made a call and it saved him from living my hell.

"Somebody loved him, somebody taught him. Somebody told him every day that he mattered. That's more than I ever got. But I settled. I chose whatever it was that wouldn't make me do this to myself," she whispered, the quiet throb of her wrist more obvious now that she had the nerve to become aware of it. "He didn't last. I should've figured but I didn't let myself go there. If I had any hope of staying human, I had to feel something. _Even if it killed me. _Anything beats nothing. Five years. Five solid years and I'm damn proud of that. It's not a joy. Do it often enough, need it enough and it has a way of crawling under your skin, becoming a part of you."

"Baelfire is dead, Emma," Regina whispered. A strangely gentle and careful delivery but she wasn't going to question it now.

"Exactly," she agreed. "He got under my skin. He wasn't even about love. He was…realization that I was more than whatever the state happened to make me. I didn't do this, Regina. I didn't take the blade. I didn't draw blood. I was already gone before then." With a heavy sigh, she let emotion cloud her vision but dared them to spill over.

"You needed him out," she finished. All Emma could do was nod, shame washing over her in a way that was almost bordered on suffocation. "He's out now. You win. You're free."

"I wish it was that easy…" The way she made it sound had Emma think for just a second that getting there wasn't as crazy as she knew it was.

"But it is."

"He's only part of it. A big enough part but it's not all Neal. Sometimes I can and sometimes… Sometimes I can't. When I can't…I don't….the control. It's never been about me. If it was, I'd be fine. Hurt as hell and a little haunted but fine. At least fine enough to keep my skin clean. Or at least I like to think so. No say. They fed me when they wanted, how they wanted. Couldn't blame them though. There had to be a schedule. Otherwise, some of us would be missed completely and it was on them if we died. Too much hanging over their heads. There had to be sacrifices. Everything was done on their watch to make sure everything happened. Clothes were given, not chosen. Obvious reasons for that and I should be grateful I got anything. I was. They had to know when, where and what so the head counts came out like they should. I know they're all stupid. I know it shouldn't matter. This is my control. This is the one thing….The only thing that isn't driven by anybody else. This is me. This will always just be me."

"I…I always treated it like remission or something, like a cancer. In its own way, it is. It decides what to do with your body. How much depends on how loud everything is. I was free…Until I wasn't. Neal died in my arms, Regina. If it were anybody else, it might be different. He was my constant. Good or bad, he was always there. And then he wasn't. Little by little it all came in on itself. My escape went with him.

"I'm thankful to him for the things that he did, the things that he gave. But I hate him even more. I fucking hate him for making me think I could keep something. It wasn't good, it wasn't bad. It was…something. And the minute he died, he took that away from me. He can't take this. This one's up to me."

"You've done it once. You sure as hell can do it again." She nodded. It wasn't so much about agreeing with her but hoping that she could make good on at least one promise. This one held more weight than just about anything else. She wasn't sure if it was the euphoria that found its way around them after she was pulled from the shower or the fact that somehow, Regina was always able to open the flood gates on her. Whatever it was, her next few words would leave her shaken and confused for at least the next few days.

"You're my good," she said quietly. She didn't have to look up to know that she might as well have grown two extra heads. "You and Henry. You're my good." Years ago, if someone had said she would say something like that to Regina Mills, she'd have them locked in the town asylum. "Good or bad," she repeated. "You didn't have to share him. I never deserved it but somehow I earned it. You didn't have to teach me how to save myself. I was ready to fall right through that bridge but I didn't."

"The bridge had absolutely nothing to do with me."

"Of course it did. You might as well admit it, Regina. You'd be lost without me," she smirked.

"You're no fun without a pulse," she corrected.

"The shower?" she laughed.

"If anyone's going to do a decent job of your death, it's going to be me."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night… But no matter how you wanna look at it, I'm not here because of him. He actually almost took me out. That's not love. Don't ask me what it is because I'm just as lost as you. All I know is that Neal, and what he did to me, the things he made me feel. That's not it. This ring is yours. I almost had to sit on you to get it on your damn finger, but it's yours. If being in this town has taught me anything, it's that there is no…love. There are promises, some of them mean more than other ones do. I never know what we are, Regina. Hell if we'll ever find out for sure. But you're here. You're here and that means something." Emma wasn't sure how long she'd been talking. She half believed that her listener eventually had enough and quietly slipped out of the room leaving her to talk to herself. Instead, she had slowly made her way over, making it easier to take her hands as she brushed her thumb along her knuckles. "I know that I haven't exactly given you reason to but if you could just…wait."

"I despise waiting," she growled.

"I know that's why I'm asking. Resisting is a daily thing. I know I won't be perfect about it. Sometimes I have to sit somewhere and hold it for a bit. I have to keep reminding myself why I haven't done it yet. But I'll get there."

"You say it like you expect me to do something about it." The blonde slowly shook her head.

"You've done more than enough for me."

"I am not your maid," she said firmly.

"I know. As of right now, you're dismissed," she chuckled. "I just… I need time."

"So long as I don't have to explain this to our son, what it is you 'need' is irrelevant." Ice cold coming out but considering what Emma had put on her plate, she expected nothing less.

"Thank you…" Gracious was far beyond either of them so the fact that she got no echo out of it wasn't anywhere out of the ordinary. A lot of…whatever their relationship was stood on silent understandings. Regina Mills knocked her to kingdom come and not once did she ever lie down and take it. Whatever their foundation, Regina would always somehow be there; whether either of them liked it or not. They weren't exactly shy in their motive for it either. Whatever they were had to stay whatever it was for _him. _And maybe, if people squinted a little and tilted their heads about ten degrees, there might just be progress. The destination to wherever was still shaky as ever but at least she'd stopped wishing her dead. That had to mean something.

Emma could do nothing but take the blame on herself for the first four recoveries and the fact that she had ended them. Nothing particularly Earth shattering brought the blade to her skin. But this…This wasn't hers and in some ways, thinking of it like that was a small wave of relief. Relief took only seconds to turn to anger when his voice sounded in her head. _Emma…_ Just her name whispered in no more than two syllables, and still, it managed to knock her off her centre.

She hated every shadow. There would always be one or two that managed to get louder than the others. Of course they would follow her. No matter how quiet they were, how rare their approach, she had to accept that she wasn't getting rid of them. For once in her life, Emma Swan had alternatives. She still wasn't sure what to make of them but if she had any hope of earning her keep, she had to learn fast. He deserved it. Her wife deserved it. And maybe, when and if she felt it acceptable, she deserved it too.

She deserved to try. She deserved to want. She deserved to hope for more. She had earned the _right _to look beyond the blade. Lost…She would always be lost. But it was about damn time she let herself be found. And maybe...maybe she had been.

"I should have never let him set foot in that hell," Regina muttered. Emma bit back the fact that their son being teleported wasn't exactly up to them. She also decided to keep tucked away trying to decide whom it was Regina was addressing. Neverland had reminded her of everything she fought to forget. Fictional or not, whether she believed in such a place or not, the island was no help to her.

_Mission Cobra: Failed_. Something about thinking the words, even if she never spoke them brought on new fear. Lethal. Everything about her "comfort" was lethal. But as much danger as it may have brought—because past tense was all she was allowed now—it had also brought her years of comfort and familiarity when everything around her insisted on changing. But her innocence or any excuse to keep it in her back pocket no longer applied.

"Might try something local for a change."

"Do you make a point of being so cryptic about _everything?_" she growled.

"It was a joke."

"If laughter was necessary, I don't see where." Emma just sighed quietly brushing her lips across her agitation. She couldn't help but note that Regina's hands always seemed cooler than they should be. Anyone else would be warm or at least less pained in their every word and facial expression. But the time to ask for things was gone. What she got was what she got. Just as she had no choice in her role as a savior, she had even less room to special order a woman with rare tolerance. Not that she would ever admit it. But Emma Swan was good with secrets. Sometimes too good but it played in her favour.

"No more family vacations to Neverland," she clarified.

"About time you start using that head. It's more than a target for my coffee cups."

"Disney world sounds kind of cool though…" Regina's mouth quickly became a grim line, this glare one of her more prominent displays of distaste. Emma just shrugged. "Henry might like it."

"No."

"It was just a thought…."

"I've heard better." The blonde couldn't keep the slight grin from forming then.

"Now who's being cryptic?"

"If I must explain them, they lose their purpose."

"I actually like that better. Always been more of a hands on learner."

"Must you _always _be talking?"

"Not necessarily." She would have spooked at the sudden snarl if Regina hadn't been so quick to silence her. After a moment, some form of oxygen was needed forcing the two to part with light flush across both of their faces. "Oh…" she whispered.

"Downright insufferable," Regina hissed.

"And yet…here we are," she grinned.

"Another word and I leave you here to melt on your own," she warned, her lengthy nails leaving bits of her upper arm a new shade of white. "I just replaced these sheets…"

* * *

**A/N: So, more dialogue than anything but I lost control of this thing by page two or three. Pretty much wrote itself. Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Let me know!**


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